


Irresponsible Adult

by orphan_account



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/M, Smoking, Underage - Freeform, bro's kinda creepy, uh
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-18
Updated: 2014-08-26
Packaged: 2018-01-19 22:16:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1486078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dave has his friends to stay, and Bro is a creeper. Warnings for underage and Rose trying to be all grown up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1

 

     It was mid-July, and the Texan summer was in full swing. Dave was hogging the air conditioner, as usual, and so you’d taken to abandoning your polo shirt as you walked around, trying to tempt any hint of a breeze to caress your toned body. You ignored your little brother’s disapproving stares as you stretched your arms above your head. Normally, he wouldn’t care, but today he had friends over, and you smirked as they blushed, squirmed, and unabashedly stared. You bent down to open the fridge and grab a cold soda, cracking it open and leaning against a counter.

     “So, what have you lot got planned for the day, then, huh?” You asked, feigning boredom.

     “Playin’ Xbox, might go hit the skate park up for a bit, I dunno. Showin’ them the sights.”

     “The beautiful sights of Texas, huh? Sand, dry cracked earth, and cows? Hah, sounds like fun, if you wanna bore your friends to death, I suppose.” You curled your lip in amusement, and Dave blushed cherry red behind his shades. His friends shuffle awkwardly, the dark haired boy pretending to text on his smartphone. You shrugged, and left with a “Whatever.”, grinning as Dave silently fumed. You took the stairs two at a time, swigging from your soda as you rounded the corner into your bedroom, kicking off your sneakers and leaving them by the futon. You collapsed into your leather computer chair, the skin of your back sticking uncomfortably to the material. You signed into pesterChum, and left it running in the background as you picked up on sewing a custom smuppet for an online order. Leaning over, you switched on your sound system, and it began to blare out rap music, the bass up high enough to reverberate through your chest. You lost yourself in sewing, and didn’t hear your computer ‘ping’ with the notification for a new message until you’d finished, and the sender had signed out.

 

\--- **tentacleTherapist** began pestering **timaeusTestified** at 14:36---

 

**TT: Hello, Mr Strider.**

**TT: Are you enjoying your Fanta? A nice, cool refreshment, quenching your thirst on such a hot day? The pure bliss of a deep need being fulfilled.**

**TT: I know that feeling all too well. It’s what I wanted to speak to you about, actually.**

**TT: Needs.**

**TT: You’re a smart man, and I believe you know what I am insinuating here.**

**TT: Think about it. Think carefully before you answer.**

**TT: I don’t leave for another week; there is no rush. I’ll be waiting for you, whenever you’re ready.**

\--- **tentacleTherapist** changed their mood to OFFLINE at 14:53---

 

You scratched your chin thoughtfully, and set the smuppet down on your desk. Leaning back in your chair, you processed what you’d just read. You were no genius, that much was true, but you knew a proposition when you saw one. You finished off the last dregs of your soda, now uncomfortably warm, and threw the can across the room to land directly in the bin. You heard the front door open before slamming shut again, and so you moved to the open window to lean out and call out to your little brother.

     “Hey, lil’ man, dinner’s at 6, don’t be late. We’re gettin’ takeout.” Dave just nodded and waved over his shoulder, too cool to be replying to you. You smirked and looked over his friends again, trying to work out which one was the mysterious tentacleTherapist. You focused on the dark haired boy, what was his name again, Josh? James? God, Dave had told you a million times before he’d arrived, and you just did not care. His pudgy cheeks and buck teeth weren’t really of interest to you, but you’d never turn down tight shota ass. Or was it the dark haired girl? You were fairly certain she was called Jade. She could have been the Josh kid’s twin, except for the fact that her skin was a lot darker, and her hair was matted into dreadlocks. Anyone would think that she’d been raised by wolves, the state she was in. Or, was it her? The blonde girl, Rose. Yes, if you had to put money on it? You’d say it was her. She moved with a practised grace, and everything she said just dripped with condescension. She was a smart-ass, and needed knocking down a few pegs. You could do that, you mused. Her eyes betrayed her knowledge, and also how quickly she has been forced to grow up. You remember hearing about her, the girl with the alcoholic mother. You sighed and pushed yourself away from the wall.

 

You didn’t notice you weren’t alone until you heard movement as you went to grab your smokes from downstairs. Your trained instincts kicked in instantly, and you flashstepped through to the living room, sweeping a leg out and taking down the possible intruder. A high pitched squeal was the response, and you stared down into the lilac eyes of Rose Lalonde. She seemed disgruntled, to say the least.

     “Do you treat all your female guests like this, Mr Strider, or could you just not stay away from me?” Sarcasm, like always, as she sat up and dusted off her skirt. Your eyes followed the movements, and then wandered, taking in skinny thighs and a cut or two by the knees, typical of a kid. She leant back on her hands, watching you intently. “See something you like?” You curled your lip and stepped back hastily.

     “Where are Dave and the others?” You asked, clearing your throat.

     “At the skate park, and will be for a good hour or two. I said I was coming back to get my phone, but I don’t think they’ll miss me.”

     “What, are you staying here ‘til they get back?”

     “Well, that depends, Mr Strider. Will you entertain me until they return? I am a guest, of course, and it is your duty as a host.” You narrowed your eyes behind your shades. The way she called you ‘Mr Strider’ went right to your dick, and you didn’t like the way it felt like she had the upper hand here.

     “The Xbox is over by the TV, there’s soda in the fridge, Doritos in the cupboards, pizza in the freezer. You’re a big girl, you can keep yourself entertained, I’m sure.” She looked stung, and for a moment, looked her age. She pouted slightly and stood up, brushing the last of the imaginary dust from the seat of her skirt.

     “I had you pinned for a lot of things, Mr Strider. But I didn’t think you’d be one to let a lady down so harshly.” She blushed, and wrapped her arms around herself. She went to leave, and goddamn it, the way she was staring at the floor just tugged at your heartstrings like nothing else.

     “Wait.” She didn’t turn around right away, but inclined her head to you ever so slightly. You sighed, and chose your words carefully. “I guess if you want, you can watch some movies with me. But you keep quiet, and I choose the DVDs. Understand?” She turns to face you finally, nodding slowly, and you know she’s won from her smirk. You grabbed a couple movies from the rack beside the TV, not really caring what they were as you placed the disc into the Xbox’s disc tray. As you settled back into the sofa, she perched on the edge of a cushion beside you, hands clasped in her lap and knees together. You sat the way you always did, obnoxiously taking up as much room as possible, arms across the back of the sofa and legs wide apart. The film started, and you weren’t looking at the screen. You were stealing side-long glances at the girl beside you. Her eyes were firmly fixed upon the events unfolding on screen, but you had a funny feeling she noticed you watching, as every now and again, she would shuffle ever so slightly backwards, towards the back of the sofa, and towards your outstretched arm. This continued on for a good while, and you did not dare move. The credits were rolling on the screen now. You were as still as stone, and she was mere millimetres away from your fingertips, she was so close that if you moved your fingers just a fraction, you’d feel blonde hair. You debated whether or not to do such a thing, and just as you were about to, the front door swung open, and in walked the lil’ man and his other two friends. To your surprise, Rose only regarded them coolly as they entered the sitting room.

     “Yo, Rose, what happened? You said you were comin’ back to meet up with us, we were waitin’ for you.” Dave said, taking in the scene before him. “Aw shit, did Bro rope you into watchin’ DVDs with him? What you been watchin’?” He stepped forward, leaning to pick up the empty case on the floor. “Hard Candy? Ain’t that the one where the lil’ girl cuts the dude’s balls off?” Dave laughed and dropped the case on the floor, and Rose stood up, laughing. They spoke some more about the film, and to be honest, you didn’t listen. You lit up a cigarette and took a long drag, watching the kids out the corner of your eye. Dave said something about taking his friends up to show them his sick deck set up in his room, and you grunted in response. They filed out of the room, except for Rose. You raised your head to look at her, and she pursed her lips in a wry smile. You raise an eyebrow and stand, closing the distance between the two of you in an instant. You pinned her against the wall, one hand encircling her skinny wrists, holding them above her head. She doesn’t seem shocked, only biting her lip, looking up at you expectantly. You moved your head down and tilted it, and she lifted her chin and closed her eyes in response. You paused, smirked, and blew smoke in her face, dropping her hands and flashstepping out of the room.

 


	2. 2

     You lay awake on your futon that night, playing out various scenarios in your head. One hand was underneath your head as you stared at the ceiling, the other traced lazy patterns on the bottom of your stomach. You closed your eyes, and visions of blonde-haired, black-lipped girls blossomed in your mind. You grinned slightly, and your hand ventured lower, stroking the beginnings of an erection to full hardness. You lazily moved your hand, gripping just enough to feel it, but not enough to make you bite your lip, not yet. You focused again on your mental inspiration, wondering just how frail that slim body would feel under your calloused hands, wondering how many ribs would be visible, imagining trailing fingertips down them, down the flat of her stomach, down to the waist of her skirt. You paused, wondering what kind of underwear she’d wear. You guessed that whatever it was, it would be lacy. Yeah, dark and feminine, just like her. You imagined slipping your fingers underneath the elastic of her panties, hearing her pant and feeling wetness inside. Your hand began to pick up speed, and you rolled your hips up into your own grasp, your mind recalling the events of the day, particularly the way she called you ‘Mr Strider’. Oh yeah, you’d make her call you that while she was on her knees. You imagined black-painted lips stretched around your cock, your hand buried in her silky hair. You imagined holding her head still as you thrust into her throat, you imagined her eyes watering and overflowing, and it’s that image that pushed you over the edge, had you spilling onto your stomach and groaning softly. You lay there for a while, catching your breath, before grabbing some tissues to clean yourself up. You rolled over, kicking one leg out of the covers, and drifted off to sleep.

     You awoke to the sound of laughter and running water. The kids were all awake, and one was in the shower. At least, you hoped it was only one. You rubbed a hand over your face in an attempt to wake yourself up slightly, sat up and put your shades on to dim the glare of the bright sunlight streaming in through the window. Your alarm clock told you it was time to get the fuck up. You stood, grabbing a clean pair of black jeans from the dresser and put them on, commando. You ruffled your hands through your hair, trying to give it some life instead of looking like a half-flattened bed-mess, and left your room. Ignoring Dave’s room, you descended the stairs to the kitchen, stretching your arms over your head as you did. You rounded the corner into the room and there she was, sipping a glass of orange juice and leaning against your breakfast bar, dressed in a long, baggy white polo shirt. In fact, that shirt looked familiar, you thought as you furrowed your brow.

     “Good morning, Mr Strider.” Her voice was quiet but strong, breaking through your thoughts.

     “That’s my shirt.” It was a statement, not a question.

     “Dave said you wouldn’t mind. I completely forgot to bring anything to sleep in, and it was this, or sleep nude. Which would you prefer, Mr Strider?” There it was again, that goddamned title. It brought your late-night fantasy to the forefront of your mind, and your dick twitched in response. You didn’t answer her, instead busied yourself with the coffee maker. You knew your jeans rode low, and you could feel her staring. She kept quiet, thank fuck, and the other kids joined you shortly. The pudgy kid sat at the breakfast bar, his hair damp and unruly. Dreadlock girl sat beside him, and you noticed that when she sat, she absentmindedly scratched at the air to her right, as if she was used to a pet being beside her. Dave came in last, already dressed in his record t-shirt. That kid had dozens of those shirts, and when you questioned it, he told you it was ‘ironic’. You didn’t think he’d quite grasped the concept.

     “Hey Bro, what’s for breakfast? We’re starvin’.” You rubbed at the back of your neck and turned to face him, a cup of coffee in your free hand.

     “You’re big fuckin’ kids, why do you need me to make you food? Jesus, what is it kid, you’re comfortable with a katana but not with a fuckin’ toaster?” You snapped, and Dave looked taken aback.

     “Come on man, I’ve been braggin’ to these guys about your famous fried breakfasts for months, come on, please?” You sighed and nodded grumpily. Dave chattered on behind you as you got the necessary ingredients from the fridge.

 

     The pudgy kid cleaned his plate, as you expected, while Dreadlocks only ate the meat. Dave kept speaking while he ate, enthusiastically telling his friends about his latest comic. Rose was quiet, eating her toast and barely touching anything else. She sat beside you, on the opposite side of the breakfast bar to the others, and you noticed that she wasn’t wearing any shorts under your shirt. Your breath caught in your throat slightly, and she looked at you from the corner of her eye. Smirking, she slowly brought her hand down to the hem of the shirt and lifted it, inch by inch, making sure you were watching all the while. She stopped just shy of the top of her thigh, just shy of where her underwear would be. You wondered if she was even wearing any, and that mental image nearly made you groan. You masked it by taking another gulp of coffee. Thin fingers encircled your right wrist below the table, gently guiding it to rest on her leg. You instinctively began to massage there, one finger moving round to softly drag a fingernail along the sensitive skin at the back of her knee. Her only noticeable response was a fluttering of the eyelids, and you inwardly smirked. You wondered just how far she’d let this little game go, and so you decided to test her. Your hand began to move up her thigh in small, measured amounts, fingers trailing closer and closer. By the time you’d gotten halfway, you noticed a flush creeping up her chest through the open neck of her shirt, and she licked her lips.

     “Rose, are you okay? You look kinda… Warm?” The pudgy kid asked, and you propped your head up with your free hand and turned to face her.

     “Now that he mentions it, you do look pretty flushed, lil’ lady.” You tried your best to hide the satisfaction in your voice, but you’re sure some seeped through. Rose stared straight up at you, her eyes bright and lips glistening, and you once again remembered the previous night’s fantasy. Your dick hardened uncomfortably against the denim of your jeans, and you removed your hand from her leg.

     “I’m fine, I assure you. It’s just the Texan heat; I’m not entirely accustomed to it yet.” Rose smiled as she answered, and her friends nodded and resumed their conversation.

 

For the rest of that day, she didn’t approach you. After breakfast, she showered and dressed in Dave’s room, and the four of them went out again. You rattled around the empty apartment, music blaring. You repaired some loose stitching on Cal, watched some shitty reality TV, and smoked the last of your cigarettes. Slinging a shirt on, you decided to go out. In the elevator down, you checked your hair in the mirror and adjusted your baseball cap. Your orange pickup truck was where it always was, parked on the kerb outside. Dave always asked why you drove that ‘beat up pile of shit’, especially with your considerable bank balance. You always just grinned and patted the top of the cabin, spouting some bullshit about ‘good old reliable Betsy’, but the truth was, that truck had been with you for a long, long time. You hadn’t always been rich, and in the tough days starting out with your business, you’d spent many nights sleeping in that truck. You didn’t have to worry about that now, and although the lower level of the apartment parking block was filled with various orange sports cars, streamlined and gleaming, you could never bring yourself to drive one; that would be like cheating on Betsy.

 

     Pulling up in the parking lot of a fast food joint, you were just about to leave your car and enter the restaurant when you saw the kids through the window. They were happy, laughing together and sharing fries. Your eyes however, were fixed on Rose. Remembering how she looked in the kitchen, you just couldn’t help yourself. You unbuttoned the fly of your jeans, and stroked yourself to full hardness. Groaning and leaning your head back in your seat, you watched her, thinking of all the things you could do to her body, all the marks you could leave, all the noises she would make. The soft fabric of your gloves only stimulated you further, and it wasn’t long before you were bucking your hips up into your hand, eyes trained on the young blonde girl. You came with a sharp cry, spurting all over your glove and jeans. Sighing in frustration, you tried your best to mop up what you could with leftover takeaway napkins in your glovebox. You heard the restaurant’s door opening, and laughter filtering through the air. The kids were coming out, and you panicked. You ducked down in your seat, praying that they wouldn’t notice the bright orange of your truck. Finally they passed, and their voices faded away eventually. Breathing a sigh of relief, you sat up and started the engine. That was a close one.

 

     Dinner that night was uneventful, and you caught Rose stealing glances once or twice. The kids all headed upstairs about 10, to dick around on Dave’s PC or something, you didn’t really care, so long as they didn’t make too much noise. You instead immersed yourself in gaming, killing time until you felt tired enough to sleep. You didn’t hear her footsteps until she was right beside you, again in one of your shirts. You paused your game, but didn’t turn to face her.

     “I saw you today, in the parking lot.” She sounded amused, and knelt beside you. You cast a quick glance downwards at her, and she smiled from beside your knee.

     “I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.” You resumed your game, and as you did, her hand snaked around your calf. She had hooked one arm around your right leg, her cheek resting above your knee. You swallowed slightly, and carried on playing the Xbox.

     “Don’t you? So, that wasn’t you in the orange truck, getting off whilst staring at me?” Her hand now began to rub softly at your inner thigh, moving ever closer to your crotch, reminiscent of the morning. She palmed you through your jeans and you quickly hardened, sighing softly as you leant back in your seat and discarded your controller.

     “What? No, could have been anybody, darlin’.” You smirked as you said this. She shuffled on her knees, moving to kneel in-between your legs. Her inexperience was obvious as she fumbled with the buttons, and you smiled and helped her. She was tentative as she explored, slowly pulling back your jeans to free your trapped erection. Her hands were cool as she touched it uncertainly, and you placed your hand over hers, showing her what to do. She dipped her head down, tongue poking out to taste your skin, and the feeling made you hiss out a breath between your teeth. Encouraged by your reaction, she opened her mouth and suckled on the head of your cock, tongue lapping against the slit. Your hand dropped away from hers as your head fell back, trying not to buck up into her mouth. You let her take it at her own pace, enjoying how she experimented with different tongue movements, and were shocked when she grabbed your wrist and placed your hand on the back of her head. Chuckling under your breath, you fisted your hand in her hair, and began to guide her. At first she choked and gagged a bit, but she quickly learnt how and when to breathe, and soon you were moaning, thrusting your cock in and out of her mouth as she looked up at you with watery black-rimmed eyes. Her innocence was a major turn-on, and it honestly wasn’t long at all before you found yourself muttering a warning for her that you were going to come. You let go of her hair to give her room to move her head back, but to your surprise, she grabbed hold of your hips and pulled you in closer and deeper. Wide-eyed, you came into her waiting mouth. Panting slightly, you watched as she sucked every last drop from you and swallowed, maintaining eye contact the entire time.

     “Where the fuck did that come from, lil’ lady?” You asked breathlessly as she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. She grinned wickedly and stood up, kissing you on the corner of your mouth before sashaying out of the room. You took a moment to collect your thoughts, before hastily re-buttoning your jeans and following her.


End file.
